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THE ALLARD BOYS – MATTHEW (L) & JASON (R) |
RUNNY EGG, NO TOAST!
My favorite Mother’s Day present
from you, by far. You were 10 years old and made me breakfast in bed. The one
thing I could never and still can’t stomach in life is runny egg whites. You
just hopped into bed with me and with that pointy little chin, those big brown
eyes and the greatest grin on your face you watched me eat every single last
bite! The purest form of love from a child. You were so proud of your endeavor,
a true gift from the heart and I just loved you so much for that wonderful
effort. I can tell you now that it was the hardest breakfast to get down! My
best Mother’s Day—when Dad surprise flew Jason home from NY to be with us. My
worse Mother’s Day—this one. Another First. A difficult First. A double box of
3-ply with Aloe tissue First. I was caught off guard again. I see what I’m
doing now. The event nears. I hold it at arms’ length. I don’t embrace it or
get too close until it is almost here. I’m pushing the feelings of grief away
and then a trigger sets me off and I have a complete meltdown. My trigger was a
post written by Shelley Ramsey “A Letter to Grieving Moms”. A
beautiful post. An honest post. Every memory I did not want to face, faced
me front and center. I relived your life from your birth to your death, your
passing, your transitioning. I yearned to cradle your infant body, feel your
tiny arms around my neck, watch you grow and flourish in your teen years, bite
my nails and cross my fingers during your college years, see you blossom and
grow into a fine man, a businessman as your work ethic and passion for the
family business settled deeply into your bones. I marveled at the loyalty you
had for your friends and the supportive circle that you developed. I rejoiced
in the roles of husband and father that you accepted and wore so well and I
longed to feel your adult arms around me. Not this year. Not next year. Just
memories . . . and this is just Saturday, I had yet to experience the main
event.
Awoke Sunday morning to a Facebook
post from Nikki (yes, I know your feelings about social media but Matt it
provides a place for comfort and support right now). The post was homage to
you, your big heart, your ability to love and cherish and to show up late,
always late after playing golf. There is sensitivity, love, humor and
gratefulness in that post. A ‘solo’ Mom trying to find her way without her
beloved partner. She has so much love in her heart and she is a special Mom
that needs to be honored and celebrated today. You have left Addy and Bear in
very good hands. Dad and I were brought to tears. The phone rings and it is
Jason calling to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. Happy—not feeling it yet. I was
blubbering when I answered and regretted that I was not able to be responsive
to Jay. The sorrow that fills my heart for you seems to be forever fighting
with the gratefulness that I feel for him. He understands. We talk about it. I
don’t have guilt; I just want to find a way to give you each your due. Isn’t
that what a Mother is always doing—looking to be fair among her children. Death
does not feel fair but gratefulness does. It is healing. “In grief with hope”,
my new mantra from Shelley Ramsey. And honey, that is how I am going to get
through this journey.
Beth and Nikki, daughters in my
heart, gave me the gift of words. Words that shook me back to reality, humbled
me and a most precious gift that allows me to go back and read and reread
whenever I need a pick-me-up or reality check. Yes, we did celebrate Mother’s
Day because the source for celebration are my two beautiful, amazing men loved by
two beautiful, amazing women and four beautiful grandchildren—beautiful inside
and out. The inside so important. You all truly light up my life and consume me
with gratefulness for the gift of Mothering this clan.
Your burgundy Henley was hugged and
kissed a few extra times today. Your scent is still in the shirt. I feel like I
am inhaling your spirit and your love when I hold it in my arms. I hold you in
my heart Matthew. I hold your precious family and Jason’s as well. A very good
Mother’s Day after all!
I pen this special meditation for
us—a prayer if you will.
THE SEASONS OF LOVE
Broken
love has four seasons
Winter’s
gloom has a hold on me.
False
faces hide the disappointment
. . .
the grieving true me.
A
vessel of hope shattered
Lost
dreams, forgotten goals,
Shared
interests, denial
Lay in
pieces before me.
Emotions
are dense, dull
I’m so
tired, I need to find peace.
Dear
Lord please help me.
I hear
a voice that is gentle
As
loving as can be.
“Dear
Child
Acceptance
and hope need only come from thee.
It is
sad and it hurts.
Death
stings like a bee.
Lost
love won’t hurt forever.
Daily
affirmations will help heal the injury.
Plant
your seeds of strength and courage
A
flower blooms in spring.
Replace
your broken vessel
With a
garden so alive, so colorful and free!
Wildflowers
catch your spirit.
They
will nurture your soul
. . .
you’ll see.”
Spring
is in the air – I can feel it.
My
dance with hopelessness is ending
No need
to listen to the song of fear.
I’ve
planted my field with care and attention.
The
sun, the rain and warm air are welcome.
I will
let them feed me.
Looking
forward to summer.
To
feeling the breeze.
Nature
is a soul teacher.
What
lessons will she have for me?
Will
she be silent and mysterious?
Are
patience and trust the seeds she’ll sow for me?
Or will
she be tenacious
Preparing
me for the unexpected.
Willing
me to stand on the two feet
The
Universe has given me.
With
fall comes the harvest
The
bounty is spiritually full for me.
How
blessed is life when you understand
The
true gifts of Love, Hope and Charity.
I
create a ceremonial meditation.
My mind
is open,
My
heart is free.
The
future no longer frightening
We're on an adventure you and me.
Love you so much—forever.
Mom
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